23 Episodes of Savage
by Dragonheart77
Summary: Based on The Curious Savage. Written by the one playing Mrs. Paddy in the school fall play (that's me). The title comes from a conversation my castmates and I had. Many feels, much hurt, much character development involved. Rated T mostly for Mrs. Paddy's abusive husband detailed a bit more. Cover by me.
1. Aftermath

**Heya. This is the first of a series of one-shots all based off of a play titled _The Curious Savage._ I had never heard of this play before our school did it (opening night is Thursday, November 12th!), but now that I have, I can't stop writing about it. The play is extremely good, bittersweet at best and heart-breaking tear-jerking Nyx-black humor at worst. For those of you who have never seen it, I strongly recommend it - there are several high school productions on YouTube, or I'm sure you can find it elsewhere.**

 **I'm double-casted for the role of Mrs. Paddy, a woman who never speaks except to rattle off lists of things she hates (which are a pill to memorize, I should add, and I hate pills ;3), because her husband told her to shut up twenty years ago, and, as her fellow residents say, "And she did." "She gave up conversation for life." ("But she is only giving up electricity for Lent.") Her husband was decidedly abusive, from the things we know about her, which does have an effect on how I/she/we (if you've never done Drama you've no idea how confusing that can be) view the other residents at the Cloisters. It also means that a lot of my one-shots (like this one) are kind of focused on her, because I know her the best.**

 **We've put together tons of theories, many compatible, a few not so compatible, about the residents' past, many of which will no doubt be posted in one form or another. For now, though, I shall get on to this story. It's much shorter than my average, likely due to the fact that I wrote it on paper:**

 **Word Count: 360**

* * *

The young blonde paced around the edges of the carpet, turning on her toe at the corners, staring down at the faded roses sadly. A middle-aged woman and two men sat at the table, moving the pieces of their parchesi game, losing track of their score every five minutes or so, but never quite bringing themselves to put up the board and start a game with the cards that sat gathering dust on the shelf. "I'm bored," the youngest of them announced.

"Come play parchesi with us," the middle-aged woman suggested, rocking the doll in her lap.

"Oh, not _that_ kind of bored," the blonde elaborated. "I mean the kind of bored that happens when exciting things have been happening all day and - hello, Miss Willie - and suddenly there's nothing happening anymore."

"Hello, Fairy," the nurse who had just entered with the coffee said amiably. Noticing the glum expressions on everyone else's faces, she added hesitantly, "Is everything all right?"

The four exchanged glances. "We miss Mrs. Savage," the older woman said at last. "She was here such a short time, and now she's gone."

"Yes, well, Mrs. Savage had important things to do in the world," Miss Willie said gently.

"Yes, her Memorial Fund," Hannimal agreed, nodding. "A noble cause indeed."

"But we _do_ so wish she had stayed," Fairy sighed.

Miss Willie set the coffee tray down on the table next to the parchesi board. "She had to go."

"Wi... Will she ever come back?" an unexpected voice came. All eyes turned to the back of the room, where a woman older than Florence sat behind her easel, clutching a teddy bear with mismatched eyes close to her chest. Her eyes fixed on Miss Willie, refusing to acknowledge anyone else.

"Mrs. Paddy?" Florence asked, startled to say the least.

"She spoke!" Fairy exclaimed. Mrs. Paddy didn't move, didn't blink, determinedly remaining focused on Miss Willie.

The nurse slowly answered her. "I don't know," she admitted softly.

Mrs. Paddy buried her nose in the bear's fur, soaking up the smell of gardenia and love, and refused to say any more, no matter how much she was pestered.

* * *

 **Sorry. I enjoy this feels-dagger thing too much for anyone's good, including my own.**

 **Favorite, follow, etc. Reviews, please! Thank you all for reading, and I'll see y'all next time. (There's lots more of this coming...)**


	2. Explanations

**Even shorter than the last, largely because of the nature of it, but also because it was originally a text to my Florence (and then, of course, my Mrs. Savage) designed to stab her with the feels dagger because - well, because why not? Love you, Florence, I swear I do.**

 **As I promised, these first few are all based on Mrs. Paddy. There are others later on, don't worry.**

 **biankies (and teddy): Why, thank ya, darlin' ;3**

 **Word Count: 204**

* * *

 _Dear Mrs. Savage,_

 _You were the only one who ever listened, who didn't treat me like a clock or a painting on the wall, so I think I owe you an explanation._

 _I hate pots and pans because my husband beat me with them._

 _I hate bats - not the furry ones, the wooden or sometimes even metal kind - for the same reason._

 _I hate pills because he overused._

 _I hate broken glass because it left me scarred._

 _I hate policemen because they couldn't save me._

 _I hate electricity because that was his job._

 _I hate crumbs because they were always everywhere._

 _I hate drunks because he was one._

 _I hate pins and pens because they were always thrown my way._

 _I hate blisters because the belts wrapped around my wrists gave them to me._

 _I hate keys because the sound of their clinking always warned me he was coming._

 _I hate prickly heat because that was how our first house was, when this nightmare started._

 _And, Mrs. Savage... I hate rhubarb because his breath always smelled of it._

 _Everything in this world reminds me of him... everything but you. I love you and I wish you hadn't left us._

 _\- Mrs. Paddy_

* * *

 **I'll leave you with that. (The rhubarb emphasis was because of Mrs. Savage's comment after Mrs. P's hate list when meeting her, "Why don't you like rhubarb?" for those of you who are wondering.) Reviews, please! Thank you for reading, and I'll see y'all next time!**


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